Desperate Measures
by Rosepeony
Summary: Set after 5.03 with some reference to previous eps., Will he never learn! Jane tries to find the identity of Red John, but to do this he must break Lorelei. Jane/Lisbon shippers please don't worry... just have faith in Patrick!
1. Chapter 1

**All the usual disclaimers apply... enjoy and please I'd love to hear your thoughts. **

* * *

Grace sat, idly watching Patrick Jane. She often did, now that she was less in awe of him. He was a fascinating character, hateful at times, manipulative, sneaky, cruel, but the longer she knew him the better she learnt how to handle him and despite their differences she had developed a real soft spot for this most entertaining of men.

The naïve country girl who had been so easily teased and conned when she had first encountered Jane was long gone, but she still played along with his games sometimes, it amused her, it amused him and she knew that his ego needed the constant bolstering of being in control, being the smartest one in the room.

She felt she had begun to understand him now, so, yes; she sometimes indulged him. She had also discovered that, hiding underneath that, sometimes shaky, veneer of supercilious arrogance, was a heart of the softest caramel fudge sundae!

Jane had been in the sequestered in his attic since before she had arrived that morning, for all she knew he had been there all night. Now he was sitting, twiddling his thumbs, looking sleepy, woebegone and miserable.

He raised his eyes, catching her unawares, and seeing her studying him, gave her a weak 'I need sympathy' smile.

'Belladonna?' she wondered to herself, but keeping her thought hidden.

Receiving no response, he sniffed loudly and, saying nothing, slowly lowered his head and sniffed again, quietly this time.

'Serves you right' she thought. Then, rethinking, she smiled back warmly_._

_Who am I to judge him._

She carried on with her work.

Snuggling back into his couch, Jane took his out phone and, when he was certain he could not be overheard, changed his voicemail message.

_You have reached the ear of Patrick Jane. If you have a problem call someone else. If you just want to say hi... 'HI !'_

Replacing the phone in his vest pocket, he picked up his half drunk and now cold cup of tea and walked casually through the bullpen to the break room, rinsed the cup absentmindedly under the tap, placed it carefully in the cupboard, turned and headed for Lisbon's office.

Quietly he knocked on the closed door, and receiving no call to enter, he opened it just wide enough to pop his head, and only his head, inside. Lisbon was deep into ticking the bureaucratic boxes of their recently closed case, a murderous bank clerk betrayed by her lover, but lifted her eyes at the click of the opening door.

'I'm off Lisbon', he announced using his best light and calculated not to cause trouble 'sorry to disturb you', tone.

The reply was exactly as he had expected.

'Jane it's barely past lunch time and the only productive thing you've done today is tea making!'

'I have a cold coming Lisbon', he whined, training his prettiest puppy dog eyes on her, 'I won't come in'.

'Oh! …. OK. You shoot off then.'

She raised her head with an affectionate smile. She was in a good mood and there were times when she knew resistance was useless; he could wind her round his little finger. Still she wasn't sure she should believe him. He did look pretty rough though.

'I'm nearly done here. Maybe I'll pop round and check in on you later.'

'Oh no …don't worry. You don't want to catch something nasty. I'll be fine, 'he coughed, a little pathetically.

'Suit your self,' she mumbled, head back in her work.

With that he was gone.

'I already caught myself something nasty', she called after him with a grin.

Jane turned and, shoulders down, shambled pitifully away. When safely out of view he straightened up and strode with purpose toward the elevator, grateful to note that it was open and empty.

Once protected by the closed doors he nervously took stock of his appearance in the mirror.

_Why do they put mirrors in elevators?_

He ran his hands through his unbrushed hair, flattening the wayward locks and took a long swallow of breath, expelling it again slowly to form a cloud of condensation which all but dissolved his reflection.

_OK … Tired, pale (thank god for that tan), but tidy._

_Not too bad. Stay that way …got to look in control…_

He patted the chest pocket of his jacket, just to make certain that the small brown bag was still there. Having almost succeeded in convincing himself that he would not use the contents he still hadn't been able to shake off the desire to go back again …..

_Right. Here we go._

Taking one last furtive glance at the reflection before him, a mixture of determination and anxiety, he mouthed quietly, almost as though he hoped she might hear.

'Sorry Theresa… love you'.

Patrick took his thoughts of Theresa and stowed them away in the safe corner reserved for her in his heart. The one next to Angela and Charlotte's special place. Then he hid the key to those thoughts in another safe place.

As the elevator touched down with a jerk and the doors once again slid open his cell phone vibrated, announcing the call he'd been expecting.

'Patrick Jane', his voice businesslike.

'Its all set. Ready to go.' Answered the familiar voice.

'Thanks Virgil. I'll see you there.'

* * *

**Thanks for reading. Hoping to hear lots of your views, I'd really like some constructive criticism and if you enjoyed please tell me, my ego isn't as insecure as I believe Patrick's is !**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks to those of you who have reviewed. I've revised the 1st Chapter a little cos I wasn't happy, hopefully I can keep your attention, things will hot up although at the moment the plan is as Jane would say ' a little hazy'.**

**Here goes ….**

Jane checked his rear view mirror one more time and seeing nothing suspicious and without signalling his intention, he turned into the underground parking of an anonymous hotel in one of the seedier suburbs of town. He drove up and down the ranks of parked cars searching for the right place, pulled in and killed the engine.

For a few moments he sat, frozen by his own thoughts and with no recollection of his journey, save for his hurried departure. He wondered how he had managed to arrive safely at his carefully chosen destination and suddenly the impact of what he was doing hit home.

Panic and overwhelming sensations of guilt flooded over him as he sat. The suddenly claustrophobic atmosphere of his self inflicted situation and the muggy subterranean parking lot brought a warm dampness to his skin and as he shakily wiped it away he leant forward, face in hands, to rest on the wheel.

As his head started to spin with nausea and random thoughts, the voices started again. He tried to shut them out.

_Lisbon …will you just get off my back…_

He pleaded with her.

_Please … I can't help it … just trust me…I am coming back …_

_No, I didn't use the tea …I promise…_

_Did I ? …_

He thought he had put her safely out of his mind, but she kept on nagging away at his concentration. Chipping off fragments of his determination. She was so insistent. So real.

He hadn't touched the special tea.

Didn't intend to.

Did he?

Knuckles white, and fingers rigidly clinging to the solidarity of one of the few constants in his life, the worn steering wheel of his beloved Citroen, Jane resisted the temptation to submit to the voices in his head.

'Please Theresa….. I will be back'. He pleaded quietly, but aloud, to the emptiness of the car.

'I've heard that one before.' Came the answer.

The angry buzzing of his cell jolted him back to reality, with a shock that left him gasping for breath and sent his eyes darting around him in paranoia, struggling to locate the source of the disturbance.

Gathering his thoughts, and unsure of how long he had been sitting, lost deep in the mire of his own preoccupations, Jane checked the caller i.d. and answered.

'Yes.'

'Jane! Where the hell are you? We're waiting. You should have been here hours ago.'

'I …. I'm sorry …. I'll be there in a few minutes.'

With a quick glance around the garage, making sure he was alone, Jane sprang into action. No time to lose, he jumped from the car, closed the door, turned the key in it's lock and went to the rear, where he opened the trunk and removed a large navy holdall. He carefully checked all the doors before pausing to run a hand over the smooth contours of the shiny blue bodywork. She was a faithful old friend, he mused.

Scanning his gloomy surroundings once more he made his way over to a dull brown vehicle, slid his hand under the front drivers side wheel arch and using the keys he found there, installed himself in the drivers seat, throwing the bag in behind him.

Wasting no time Jane drove three blocks down, turned into an insignificant side street and pulled up at the side of a rundown apartment block.

Leaving his bag in the car he went straight to the front of the building. The street door opened automatically as he approached and a man ushered him in.

'God knows why I'm doing this Jane', said Virgil Minelli, shaking his head as he quickly unlocked the door to a small first floor room. 'No! Don't answer that. I know why I'm doing it.'

'I think you're doing it for Lisbon and for Bosco and the others, Virgil. I don't flatter myself that you're doing it for me. But thank you anyway.' Jane answered, somewhat sheepishly.

'Don't try for sympathy Jane. I know you won't rest until Red John is dealt with and every day that this carries on you are putting Lisbon at risk. So yes, I'm doing for her.'

Minelli paused before opening the door and pinned Jane with a steely glare,

'This is the last time Jane. If this doesn't work you go. You disappear. Out of her life. Or, so help me God ….'

He pushed the door open. The room was ordinary but comfortable and warm, tastelessly furnished in reds and oranges and uncomfortably reminiscent of the rooms in Vegas.

_How appropriate. …Or inappropriate … depending on your point of view…_

Jane's gaze fell immediately on her. Bathed in the soft amber glow of dim table lamps, she sat serenely in a grey sweater and jeans, legs curled langorously, leaning back against the iron bed she was cuffed to.

Her brown eyes smiled warmly at him as she spoke, that soft alluring drawl….

'Hello Lover. I thought you'd never come. I've missed you.'

**It's slow going I know, not a lot has happened, but hopefully things will start hotting up.**

**Please don't let Lorelei put you off … to reassure you I am a shipper of the first order!**

**I can't wait to find out what happens….. **

**Hope to post some more before the weekend. **

**Please review let me know what I can improve. More detail? Less detail? **


	3. Chapter 3

**I'm a bit concerned that the presence of Lorelei in this story is deterring many of you from reading, but trust me.**

**Anyway I'm much happier with this chapter, so give it a go and please review to let me know that you want me to continue.**

Jane smiled back, completely unfazed by Lorelei's greeting. You had to admire the woman's composure, but he knew that whatever front she presented to the world it was only the persona her master had built for her. He could easily strip that away. He had to.

He paused deliberately, for maximum effect, holding her gaze with his own, before replying.

'I've missed you too, my little songbird. It's been too long.'

He moved closer to her and bent down as he had once before, planting a brief kiss atop her head.

'We're going to spend some time together.'

'I'd love that,' her voice was soft and sticky like maple syrup waiting to trap the unsuspecting fly.

Lorelei didn't react when Jane turned abruptly and walked to where his friend stood in the shadows at the still half open doorway. He motioned to Minelli to close the door behind them as they exited to stand outside leaving her alone in the room.

'Everything's set up. The place is ready,' the man informed him without emotion.

'I know you don't believe me Virgil, but **I'm** doing this for Theresa too.' Jane replied seriously.

He hesitated, surprised to hear himself using her Christian name. It brought home to him what he might be losing and his tone changed, beginning to falter.

'This is my last throw of the dice. If this doesn't work I don't think she'll ever have me back ….not so sure even if it does work.'

Minelli noted the desperate edge in Jane's voice as he spoke, the slightly wild look in his eyes, the pallor of his skin highlighted by pink heat flushing his cheeks.

'I promise if I fail this time I **will** go. I will 'll all be rid of me.'

The older man stood silent, stunned by this declaration.

Jane grasped the door handle firmly and began to turn it.

'We have to go now,' his voice was low so that the woman waiting inside couldn't hear, 'Look after her for me and if I can't come back tell her I'm sorry.'

He turned to enter the room but stopped and let his eyes fall to his old brown shoes on the cold grey floor, everything seemed old and tired and grey. He felt old and tired and grey.

'I know 'sorry' isn't enough, but it's all I've got.'

With that he swung the door open and retreated into the room, closing it behind him before Minelli could speak.

Jane waited until he heard his friend walk away, not wanting his conversation with Lorelei to be overheard.

It also gave him time to gather himself, to present the desired air of calm and authority to her. He had to appear to be the one in control of their destiny. He would not show her even the slightest chink in his armour. No matter how many tiny gaps there were in his carefully constructed façade, she would not see inside to the real him, any more than she had already. Because he knew she had seen his weakness and he knew she would try to use it.

Wait a little longer he thought, even after he felt he himself was ready. It was good to make her wait, give her time to dwell on her own insecurities.

She simply sat quietly looking at him with her penetrating eyes and her knowing half smile, like the cat that got the cream. It unnerved him a little. More than a little.

Finaly he walked over to her and taking one of the keys from the bunch Minelli had left for him, he unlocked the cuffs.

She showed no sign of any surprise that he was willing to release her. After all he was her lover.

'Thank you Lover. I knew you would come to trust me,' the cat purred.

'We're leaving. I'm taking you somewhere more comfortable. Somewhere I think you'll feel much more at home,' he responded impassively.

'Oh, are we going back to Vegas? I liked your cosy little motel room. It wasn't much, but I often think fondly of the time we spent there. Don't you Lover?'

'No, not Vegas. You'll find out soon enough. Let it be a surprise. I think you'll be proud of me.'

Even though now free of her bonds, Lorelei didn't move. She sat watching as Jane picked up the bag Minelli had brought for the few personal things she had and those he had bought on Jane's instruction. She watched him as he gathered her toiletries from the bathroom and she watched him as he checked the rest of the room before taking her firmly but gently by the arm and guiding her out into the hall. She neither resisted nor spoke.

He was amazed at his own boldness. If she wanted to escape there was a good chance she could have done so, while he was in the bathroom, but he had convinced himself that this was the only way. He had to try to gain her trust and to persuade her that that trust was reciprocated. To shake her faith in Red John he had to place his trust in her … or at least let her believe that it was possible.

None of this shared trust stuff was true though. It was all a game. Red John's perverted little game. It was just a question of keeping his game with Lorelei in play long enough to win her over, to oust her master from his place in her head or heart, whichever of those two vessels he occupied, and to persuade her to betray him. He had to dangle the trust carrot in front of her convincingly if the game was to be brought to a conclusion. The right conclusion.

They walked to the car in silence, Jane led her to the front passenger seat, politely opened the door and watched her climb slowly and gracefully into the seat. Jane was fascinated at the woman's determination to seduce him, every move she made was calculated to call to the male in him. He climbed quickly into his own seat and turned the key in the ignition, he felt a great urge to be on the way, to get things moving.

Things had taken longer than he had expected, mostly due to the time lost to his own stupid fear and cowardice, but now that he could not turn back he felt much more confident, even brave.

It was getting toward dusk as they turned onto the freeway. It would be a long drive but he knew the route well, so although exhaustion was threatening he was not worried. Not worried about reaching their destination safely anyway.

He was glad Lorelei was quiet. He wondered what she was thinking. He stopped wondering, because it worried him and he needed to concentrate.

He reached forward and turned the radio on, it was playing a Chris Isaacs tune. It reminded him of Vegas, so he changed channels quickly. Too late. It reminded her too.

'Will Agent Lisbon be there, Lover? Is she waiting for us? I know you like to share things with her.'

She smiled at him knowingly before continuing.

Oh but I forgot, you didn't share with her when you were in Vegas. Did you?'

He was surprised at the lack of tension in his voice as he answered,

' No, Theresa won't be there. Just you and I.'

'Won't she wonder where you are? Didn't you tell her?,' she goaded him.

'She's not my keeper.' He replied, flicking the radio dials to find something soothing.

The freeway lights ticked past with monotonous regularity as darkness fell and the traffic grew more sparse. Jane wished fervently that they could skip this last part of the journey, that they could, as if by magic, skip the next couple of hours. He mentally crossed his fingers, hoping that the woman by his side would hold her tongue, stop taunting him any more than he was taunting himself. The music certainly wasn't helping and his resolve was wavering again.

Somehow the time passed and Jane became aware of a subtle change in the atmosphere, the warm night air that filtered through the vents and crept in through the tiny strip of open window was different. It smelled different. It smelled of salt and ozone and summer and it reminded him of the past. They were nearly there. He was all at once relieved and terrified.

He turned off and drove along the coast road. He slowed so that he could safely turn to take glimpses of the moonlight making glittery tinsel patterns as it highlighted the top of the dancing waves.

Coming back here would never be the way it used to be. He wasn't sure he should be doing what he was about to do.

The houses on the coast were expensive and stylish, with large gardens guarded by tall hedges and well manicured lawns and decks reaching down to the beach. Rich peoples homes.

Jane turned into the driveway of a large modern house with a row of huge windows and wide wooden steps leading to the front door. There were no lights. No one was home.

He came to a halt in front of the building and stilled the engine, but didn't move. He sat as if in another world, enveloped in a cloud of nothingness.

He would have stayed there, but the lack of motion pulled Lorelei out of the light sleep she had fallen into.

She yawned and as she stretched her arm gently brushed Jane's leg, breaking the spell he was evidently under.

'Oh, are we here Lover?'

Then, still with her beguiling half smile, 'You look tired. Perhaps we should go in.'

**So I'm sure you must have realised where Jane has taken her. But how is he going to cope and what will happen…. Will Jane turn Lorelei or will it break him?**


	4. Chapter 4

**A huge thank you to all of you who have reviewed or followed, and to all those who are reading my story. Please keep me up to date with how I'm doing ….. is it a bit slow… don't worry, things will get more exciting soon but as we know with Patrick it's all about the mind games and the climax isn't far away! **

**It seems none of us own TM … sadly neither do I !**

Without responding, Jane climbed from the car, retrieved both bags from the rear seat and, with Lorelei's Mona Lisa smile following his every move, he carried them solemnly to the top of the steps.

He paused, placed them down in slow motion then, as if flicking on a switch, turned and skipped lightly back to help his guest from her seat, flashing her a welcoming smile as he did so, but all the time despising the woman's smug confidence.

How dare she simply sit there, toying with him, she didn't deserve chivalry, why should he jump through all her hoops like this?

His heart sank just a little as he acknowledged that he would, for now, jump through all the hoops her pseudo circus act could throw at him.

'Why so quiet lover?' she meowed, not even bothering to register interest in her surroundings as he ushered her into the generous hallway.

Her voice echoed eerily around the empty building. The word 'lover' bounced off the unadorned walls and slapped Jane firmly in the face.

Dropping the bags rather more abruptly than he'd intended, he spun around to face her.

'I'm tired.' he snapped, 'I've driven a long way Lorelei.'

_God, it hurts even to utter her name!_

He looked away quickly, hoping fervently that she hadn't picked up on the difficulty he was having controlling himself.

Stooping down he picked up the bags again and led the way upstairs, using each step to regulate his ragged breaths, as with each of those steps the reality of their location rubbed another deep scar into his conscience.

As he reached the landing he turned deliberately to the left and led Lorelei to a room at the end of a short corridor.

He opened the door and stood back for the woman to enter.

'I don't understand, Lover. You told me we were going to be staying somewhere comfortable. I'm disappointed.'

The room was unfurnished, apart from a cheap bed and some basic bedding. There was no floor covering, nothing to block out the shaft of moonlight that cast the dancing black shadows of a tree outside the small window onto the pale wood.

'Comfort doesn't come from soft furnishings. It comes from the love of the people around you.' he answered, his tone conveying what he assumed was obvious. 'You'll understand that soon.'

'You have your own bathroom.' He indicated the other door in the room. 'We both need to get some sleep now, my little songbird. It's very 'll talk in the morning.'

'Why do you call me that, Lover?' she prodded.

'I like it.' He answered truthfully. 'Sleep well.'

Jane smiled what he hoped was a warm smile, before quietly closing the door. He turned the key in the lock, praying that she wouldn't hear the clicking of metal on metal.

Yes, this trust thing was all just so much rubbish. She was his prisoner. Not his guest. He supposed she would turn the handle to confirm as much. They danced around each other, playing alternate moves in Red John's macabre game of verbal poker, neither one of them giving any clues, both of them seeking the other's 'tell'. In the morning she would try to press his buttons and he would break her code.

With the turning of the key, the day rushed back over Jane with all the inevitable force of the ocean outside. He felt the colour drain from his face and the cold sweat that signalled the need for physical support dampened his forehead.

He felt for the rail where it reached the top of the stairs. It felt reassuring. It fit his hand with a familiarity that gave him strength.

Exhaustion called him, begging him to at least attempt to get some sleep. Common sense and logic were in agreement, but experience knew better, so Jane made his way rather unsteadily back to the kitchen.

A brown cardboard box stood in the centre of the table. He checked the contents, checked the fridge, then crossed to the sink to fill the kettle. Once filled he placed it on the stove to boil, took a cup from the cupboard to the left above the stove and a box from a selection of similar ones in the cupboard next to it.

All these things he did with the smoothness of a practised routine.

The water boiled.

The tea brewed.

He removed his jacket and draped it carelessly over the back of a nearby chair.

The small brown paper bag fell, landing with the rustle of shaken leaves.

Jane reached down, picked it up carefully and placed it directly in front of him, next to his teacup.

He sat down slowly, like the weary man he was, took the cup in both hands as if for comfort and brought it to his lips. Closing his eyes, he took a long slow sip, savouring the hot liquid and breathing the steam deeply. He repeated the exercise until the cup was drained, before once again opening his eyes.

Feeling somewhat better, he dragged the discarded jacket nearer to him and searched the pockets to find his cell. Flipping it open, he stared at the flickering screen as it booted into action. When it was ready he pressed up missed calls. He was dreading, but hoping that there would be one. Relief. It was there.

'Hey Jane, what's with that new message? So, you'll be glad to know we made it through the rest of the day without you. Tough; but we made it. No little frog in the throat's gonna work two days running though. Be here in the morning!'

He quickly closed the phone, he'd heard her voice and that was all he needed. He allowed himself a secret smile.

The brown paper bag on the table stared back up at him like a spectre but also like a friend, inviting and at the same time frightening.

He touched it tentatively.

_Not tonight, _he told himself_._

Hypnos always catches up eventually and the tension relieving properties of the slow rhythmic ritual of sipping the nectar that was tea had worked their magic. He was close to sleep.

Leaving everything as it was Jane pushed back his chair and made his way back to the hall. To the stairs. Taking each step was the same as it always was, like taking a step back in time, each step filled with pain but each one a step nearer to the memory of that day. Nearer to Angela, nearer to Charlotte, but nearer to Red John.

He lingered on the top step, hesitating to turn his eyes to the door that still wore the scars of the tape that had secured the message so indelibly etched into his brain; burned into his retinas forever.

Coming to this room had become another routine. Not frequent, but a routine all the same. This time could be different, he hoped, perhaps he could make it the last.

He pushed the door open. It wasn't any easier.

The moon shone on the mattress, making stripes of light and dark. Jane walked straight over to it and, without removing his shoes, lay down. He turned to face the wall that the mattress was butted close up to and let his eyes wander over **it**.

Strange how faded and brown it was now.

He shivered a small shiver, even though the summer night was stifling.

'I'm home Angie. For a bit,' he whispered.

The smile looking down on him bore silent witness to the stinging tears that escaped from beneath his lashes as they finally closed a long and painful day.

XYX

'Has anybody seen Jane?' was the first thing to pass Theresa Lisbon's lips when she entered the bullpen.

The team had been at their desks for some time, tying up loose ends on the last case while awaiting the next. Their boss had been summoned to a tedious press briefing on an ongoing case they had been called in to sort out. She hated these things; didn't see why Bertram couldn't handle it. She was not happy.

Cho merely looked up, stony faced. So Jane wasn't where he was supposed to be. Nothing new.

'He called me at about 8.30,'van Pelt piped up, 'Sounded rough. Said he hadn't slept. Thought it better to keep his germs out of your way.' She had to grin. It was easy to imagine the great Patrick Jane, fussing around, snivelling, feeling sorry for himself. Even on his own.

Rigsby giggled at the thought when he caught the redhead's eye, but said. 'First sensible thing he's done in ages.'

Lisbon frowned and retreated to her office with the takeaway coffee she had acquired on her way in. She felt she was entitled to treat herself to a decent drink occasionally. She chose to sit on the couch hoping to coax out the last vestiges of frustration from the meeting.

Something vanPelt had said suddenly started eating at her as the faint aroma left by the couches' most habitual occupant reached her. A warm, familiar scent.

_Jane had not slept! _

So what! He often didn't sleep. It never stopped him coming to work though, in fact he slept better there.

_Jane was ill!_

No, Jane was rarely ill and if he was he would be there, in the office, wallowing in self pity and craving sympathy.

Anyway, why had he not phoned **her**? He would have phoned **her,** not vanPelt. So, either he was **really **ill or something else was going on. Something was wrong. She could have kicked herself; the signs were there last night!

Snatching up her jacket, leaving the coffee untouched, she rushed to the elevator, shouting back as she disappeared.

'I'm going to check on Jane'.

As she turned into the parking lot of Jane's long stay motel Lisbon felt her heart drop like a stone, right into the pit of her stomach.

The sainted blue citroen was absent.

She directed her anger at the steering wheel, and voiced it aloud through gritted teeth.

'Why the hell do I let you do this to me!'

Instantly the truth reared it's ugly (well maybe not **so** ugly) head. She knew exactly why she allowed him to mess with her life. Her mind drifted back, as it tended to at these all too frequent times, to the moment when the sad, pathetic shadow of a man had climbed right into her heart with that tentative smile of thanks, those puffy, reddened puppy dog eyes and that awkward first hug.

She popped open her cell.

'Cho, Jane's car's gone. Find it and get vanPelt to trace where that last call was made from.'

XYX

Barely three hours had passed before the thin rays of dawn replaced the moon's silvery light and stirred Jane from a fitful slumber filled with the usual horrors, puzzles and worries. He lay awake until the sun reached what he calculated to be a reasonable hour, filling the intervening time by examining every inch of the gruesome stain.

It was strange how detached he had become from the image. It was an instrument he used to focus his mind on his mission. Like a top up, if you will. Only when he allowed his attention to wander did he plunge into the deep pit of pain it's maker had dug for him. Then he was consumed by the fact that he himself was the guilty man.

He tried hard not the think of Angela and Charlotte. There was planning to be done. His strategy had to be perfect. Unshakeable but flexible, he would twist and turn her thoughts until he won her over.

Today he would, at last, have the one piece of information he needed.

The sun gradually warmed the room and brought colour to the smile. Jane judged that it was time to make his call to the office.

VanPelt swallowed it, hook line and sinker. She'd been suitably sympathetic. He didn't allow himself to think of speaking to Lisbon. Besides, he'd locked her safely away alongside his family.

He stood, smoothed himself down, rubbed his hands roughly over his face to try to stimulate some kind of energy and headed for the door.

With a quick glance back over his shoulder, he left the night behind him and sealed the room with a gentleness verging on reverence. It seemed to him it had taken on the function of a shrine. A place for him alone. That thought evoked an agonising rush of guilty panic as the impact of what he intended to do in the ensuing hours hit him like a sledgehammer.

Practically tumbling down the stairs, and trying desperately to bannish all thoughts of Lorelei from his mind, he blindly grabbed the kettle and made tea. Only his routines could calm him when his control began to waver as it was wavering now.

Hands shaking, he took the first sip and sank with a sigh of relief into the same chair he had occupied last night. Everything was just as it had been. The box of supplies still stood unpacked. His jacket lay, crumpled where he had left it.

He sat, sipping his brew and automatically scanned the room. Jane, the eternal observer of the most minute detail.

He didn't notice that the small, brown paper bag had gone.

**Thanks for being patient. Everything comes to those who wait. Action next chapter **

**Please let me know your thoughts.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Well I promised action, but I have to admit I lied. Not deliberately you understand. The action will have to wait til next time, but the psychological sparring is essential otherwise my climax is meaningless. So please be patient. Read and hopefully enjoy.**

**I don't own the Mentalist but if I did CBS would be on the rough end of my tongue.**

The morning was warm and golden and Jane busied himself sorting the contents of the cardboard box into the kitchen cupboards. There were enough essentials for the couple of days they would be there. If everything went to plan.

Today was to be Lorelei's day.

He brewed coffee, put a pan on the stove ready to receive eggs. Then he buttered slices of bread and put glasses and a jug of juice on the table.

Satisfied that everything was as he wanted, Jane turned his attention to a small MP3 dock sitting on an otherwise empty bench at the side of the room and scrolled through the music on the player that had been left there. Soon the haunting strains of Bach's prelude on C major wafted through the eerily quiet house.

The music filled his head with tumbling memories, some horrifying, but many more of them beautiful, and one more powerful than any memory had a right to be. Fighting tears through a wistful smile he stood motionless watching his daughter at the piano, laughing and chatting to her mother as she played. Her blond curls cascaded like a fountain of gold, almost to her waist and her blue eyes sparkled as she smiled up at him. That image would serve to strengthen his resolve as it returned to him in times of trouble.

Blinking back the tears, Jane took a moment to compose himself. Then he left the room, climbed the stairs quietly, listening for any sign life and knocked gently on the door to cover the tiny noise he made when he turned the key to unlock Lorelei's prison.

'Good morning Lorelei.' he said brightly, 'I hope you slept well. May I come in?'

'How sweet of you to wake me with music.' She smiled sleepily, pulling the bedcovers around her to preserve her modesty. 'Yes, I slept well Lover. Thank you.'

Then stretching and more awake, she added, 'It's good to sleep in a real bed. Prison is not the most comfortable of places, but then you'd know that wouldn't you?'

'Let's not talk of that now.' Jane countered tersely, caught a little off guard by her remark, his voice sounding sharp in the bare room.

He forced himself to relax again and added, 'It's a beautiful day. We shouldn't spoil it. I'm making eggs for breakfast, coffee's brewing. You like coffee, don't you? I'll drink tea, but I've made you coffee.'

He heard the words rushing out nervously. He needed to leave the room.

'Come down when you're ready.' He added backing out without waiting for a reply.

Jane retreated downstairs and sat at the kitchen table to wait and think. It was essential that he led the conversation and it would all be steered in one direction. Most importantly he must not show any sign of weakness.

He heard the sound of the shower and, not long after, delicate footsteps on the stairs.

'I'm in here,' he called, swivelling in his seat to greet her pleasantly.

She had done just as expected. Her hair was still wet, sending shiny trickles of water to settle into the hollows of her collar bones and the white towel was draped just a little bit too loosely. She sauntered into the room and came to stand close to where he sat, resting her hand on the back of his chair. Not so modest now that she was refreshed by the luxury of a good shower.

'How do you like your eggs?' he asked pretending not to notice how close she was, but looking straight and steadily into her eyes.

'You don't remember? Shame on you! But I suppose you were a little preoccupied at the time, weren't you?'

'Yes, quite probably, I was,' _Stay calm and change the subject. '_Do you like the music? It's Bach. It's simplicity is so pure. Serene, don't you think?'

'Oh, it's very pretty.' She answered as if she thought it was what she was expected to say, but then added, 'I think I've heard it somewhere before.'

They both knew why Red John's friend had heard the music before, but neither acknowledged it.

'It was my wife's favourite. She would play it all the time. She would have taught my daughter that piece. If they had lived.'

Jane could feel the pounding of his aching heart as he spoke. He said nothing more, allowing the music to fill the silent void left by his words.

Eyes searching hers for signs of a reaction, he waited, he would have taken her wrist to check but feared physical contact would convey the wrong message at this stage.

Lorelei remained impassive. Almost. She stepped back, just a little, and looked away for a second but made no comment.

The music shuffled to another similar piece, breaking the spell and signalling the end of step one in the masterplan to wean Red John's girl from her master's grip.

Jane rose and fussed about, pouring coffee and cooking breakfast and keeping the conversation deliberately general until they had both finished eating. Lorelei listened politely to his detailed descriptions of breakfast making carnie style and his complaints about tea making facilities in cheap motel rooms.

He congratulated himself on managing to make her laugh out loud at one of his more outlandish stories.

'You wash. I'll wipe.' He exclaimed, suddenly leaping from his seat and searching for a tea towel. 'Then you must get dressed. I have things to show you.'

Just as suddenly Lorelei's expression changed to one of disappointment, she examined Jane thoughtfully and said,

'OK Lover, but why did you lock me in my room last night? I thought you trusted me.'

'Oh, that was just a test, to see if _you _trusted _me.' _He teased_. '_You tried the door?'

'Of course!' she grinned, quite openly enjoying the game.

Turning and pulling the fluffy white towel tightly around her body, she skipped off to her room leaving Jane to wash the dishes. He did so with a quietly satisfied smile on his lips. That could have gone worse.

One faint pencil tick in the first box on his mental list.

He sat down at the table and waited calmly for her return. While he waited he took out his cell, and considered checking again for messages, wondering if Lisbon was wise to his deception yet. He decided not to tempt fate. Listening to an irate Lisbon wasn't going to change a thing. Except his mood.

XYX

'Cho, any news on Jane's car yet?' demanded Lisbon, 'vanPelt, did you trace his phone?'

'Nothing on the car yet. Hasn't shown on any cameras. No reports of accidents or incidents. Disappeared!' The businesslike reply was typically Cho.

'I'm still working on the phone trace,' vanPelt called after her boss as Lisbon rushed past to rifle through the untidy mess on Jane's desk. 'but he's not in Sacramento and he's still not picking up.'

'OK, so he doesn't want to talk to us. I'll give him til tonight, then if he's still behaving like a child, I'll …'

Lisbon's thoughts ground to a juddering halt, derailed by the memory of his last disappearance.

' …Just keep on checking'. She finished quietly.

XYX

'I'm ready Lover'

Lorelei smiled when she saw Jane patiently awaiting her arrival in the hall. She observed the quirky charm of an undeniably good looking man, whose appeal was so heightened by his choice of formal clothes worn casually. The crumpled linens and worn shoes enhanced his air of mystery and the slightly unkempt hair and haphazard regard for tidiness made him seem slightly vulnerable. Adorable.

'What do you have planned for me today Lover? Something exciting I hope.'

Jane watched his _lover _as she approached him, hoping against all hope that she would not demand to be kissed today.

'I thought I would take you for a walk. Show you some things,' he said, opening the door and stepping aside for her to precede him. 'It's a lovely place. Full of memories.'

'You have such lovely manners,' she observed, following him out into the garden, which in the daylight she could see was large and had once been a haven of exotic plants and flowers. Now it was neglected but still beautiful, mysterious even.

'Thank you. I think its important, don't you? To treat people well, I mean. Treat them how you would wish to be treated.'

Jane led the way around to a large wooden structure that jutted out over the ocean, it was sheltered by a canopy that had seen better days, battered by several seasons worth of wind and scorching sun.

'What do you think Songbird ? Wouldn't you like to live somewhere like this? To sit out here in the evening sun, watching it slide towards the horizon, drinking wine, listening to the waves brushing the sand, chatting to the one you love.'

He gently placed his hand on Lorelei's cheek and guided her gaze from the vast silvery blue expanse to look into his eyes. 'What do you think?' His own eyes posed the question. He held her with them.

After allowing her some time for reflection, time for the question to sink in, he continued.

'I did that. With Angela. Just before sunset and after Charlotte was asleep, we would come to bid the sun goodnight.'

Without averting her eyes from his and without wavering Red John's woman answered.

'You could do it again you know, if you move on, let Red John help you. He can help you find those pleasures again. He isn't an unkind man, he only wants to help you find a new way.'

Jane felt his whole body sag as the words hit their mark. He kept his eyes focused firmly on Lorelei, hoping that by doing so he would prevent her from noticing the whiteness of his knuckles clenched tightly around the weathered railings and the shaking of his knees as his emotions pingponged between hatred and horror.

'There is no new way Lorelei,' he told her, the strength of certainty in his quiet voice making it sound like a threat.

With that he turned his back to her and walked to where a flight of steep wooden stairs led directly down to the beach.

Relieved that she didn't immediately follow him, but keeping a watchful eye on Lorelei, Jane took the opportunity to reorganise his thoughts, re evaluate his plan and give himself a breather. He took some deep, rejuvenating gulps of the fresh sea air and a long look at the gold ring he was certain would eventually be worn away by constantly being spun around his finger. He would never take it off.

'I didn't mean to upset you lover,' a voice called from above him, 'I only tell you the truth.'

Lorelei descended the steps and stood beside him so that he had to tilt his face up to the sun to see her. It shone straight into his soul and revealed the utter sadness swimming the sea of those green blue pools.

'You seem so sad Patrick. But I don't say it to hurt you,' she tried to reassure him.

'I am sad and you can help me change that. I understand why you say what you say Lorelei, but I hope I can make you understand why Red John's truth is not my truth. When you understand that you will help me.'

Jane stretched up a hand and smiled a small wan smile.

'Here give an old man some help up. We should have a stroll on the beach.'

They both slipped off their shoes and placed them side by side on the bottom step to await their return. Jane had done the very same thing so many times before, that very step had been home to three pairs of shoes, not two. He hoped that Lorelei would begin to appreciate these simple emblems of an idyllic domesticity that he missed and that the little things would burrow into her subconscious and build into a bigger picture. A picture so vivid that she would be unable to deny it's truth.

Lorelei watched as Jane sprinted off down to the waters edge, at first struggling, his feet burying themselves in the soft sand, but suddenly running freely when he reached the smoother solid area where the warm foam washed the beach clean over and over again.

She watched him splash into the first few inches of water then bend down to let it run gently over his hands. He was really like an adorable man child, revelling in his freedom. For a fleeting moment she saw him as Patrick. As fleeting as moments are that thought was gone and he was once again the man Red John had instructed her to make her lover.

'Come on!' He cried. 'The water's lovely.'

Smiling her enigmatic smile she slowly walked to join him. He was right, the sand was warm and soft, pushing up between her toes, then cool and slippery as she approached him and soon the warm salty water washed away the sand while they ambled down the beach with their feet just under the surface.

'There are some interesting shells on this beach,' he told her, 'we used to collect some every time, until we had so many buckets full we brought them all back down here one day to decorate our sand castles.I'm a very good builder you know. I had years of experience and Charlotte was very demanding. Only the best castle would do, with turrets and moats and flags.'

So Lorelei helped Jane collect shells and watched him build his sandcastle. She watched him concentrating, in a world of his own, occasionally rueing the fact that because he had forgotten to bring a bucket and spade the castle wasn't picture perfect. She listened to him reminiscing about the days on the beach with his family. How he used to skim pebbles while 'his girls' watched him, Angela reading and Charlotte playing beside her. How he had taught his daughter to swim in the sea, once she had become confident in the small pool in the garden.

Lorelei began to think of him as Patrick again.

At last he stopped, announcing that the castle was done. He stood and, politely offering her his hand, Jane pulled her to her feet. He had lost track of how much time had passed. It must be well after lunchtime, he supposed, not that it mattered. Food was unimportant.

What was important was drawing Lorelei into seeing things from a different point of view. So far it was going well he thought; a few wobbles, but he could sense her defences crumbling, something in the way she was looking at him, something more open in her expression. Maybe he could risk playing his trump card. He decided to consider it.

Playing this lovely little game was becoming more difficult than he had anticipated; reciting his catalogue of precious private memories was agonizingly painful, each candy coated scene of family life burned bittersweet like acid in his heart.

He couldn't hide the strain that Lorelei began to notice, creeping into his features even though he tried to smile and chat on the long trudge back to meet their shoes.

By the time they could see their destination Jane's decision was made. He could not keep pretending any more. It was sometimes much easier to be hard and cold and not to reveal the golden things in your heart.

It was time to show her what he was really made of.

**So what do you think? **

**Please let me know…. reviews make for a happier writer and happiness should hopefully produce a better story.**

**Hugs and kisses for all those who are bothering to review and to anyone who's reading anyway.**

**XXX**


End file.
